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Ella smiled. “And just like that the magic was ruined. Did you say something?”
“No.” Gayle shook her head. “I could see from his face that he was loving every minute of what he was doing for me. That, to me, was the magic.”
Love.
Samantha’s throat stung and right at that moment, when she was straining every muscle to hold back the emotion that was threatening to overwhelm her, Brodie walked into the room. He wore jeans and a sweater that made his eyes seem bluer than ever, and Samantha didn’t think she’d ever seen a more delectable, incredible man in her life.
She wanted that night back. She wanted to do the whole thing again so that she could savor every moment, and linger over every touch and taste.
Because she wanted to fling herself at him, she shrank back in the chair and curled her fingers round the arm.
Mary was fussing over him, handing him a drink, encouraging him to warm up by the fire, and all Samantha could think was that if her body heated up even a fraction of a degree more, then she’d probably combust. She heard the conversation going on in the distance and pretended to be paying attention, all the while trying to seem normal when she didn’t feel normal.
She saw him deep in conversation with Michael, the two of them talking and laughing together as if they’d known each other forever. When Brodie glanced at her, she made her smile a little wider, telling herself she was fine, totally fine.
She took another mouthful of her drink and saw Ella cross the room and say something to Brodie, something that made his face turn red to the tips of his ears.
She had no idea what her sister had said, and she decided she didn’t want to know because it was obviously something horribly awkward and embarrassing.
By the time she eventually headed to her room, the effort to seem normal had given her a pounding headache.
She swallowed a couple of pills with a glass of water, took a long hot shower, and curled up in bed. She’d barely opened her book since that first night, but hopefully it would be the distraction she needed.
Downstairs she could hear the creak of stairs and doors closing as her family settled down for the night. Somewhere at the other end of the lodge, Brodie would be settling down, too.
Samantha rolled onto her side and opened the book, willing herself to concentrate on the words on the page.
She would close the door and walk away and forget all about him. She would pretend this had never happened...
Samantha put the book down. Good luck with that. Hopefully the heroine would have more success than she was having.
She gave up on reading and was about to pull on a robe and go downstairs to the kitchen when there was a light tap on the door.
Presuming it was her sister, Samantha almost didn’t answer, but then decided that talking to her sister might actually be what she needed. Being closed off had got her nowhere, so it was time to try the opposite.
She pulled open the door.
Brodie nudged his way past her and closed the door behind him.
A thrill shot through her. “Brodie—”
“Shh—” It was only as he turned the key in the lock with his right hand, that she realized his left hand was holding a bottle of champagne.
“What are you—” The words died as he pressed his fingers to her lips and then lowered his head and replaced his fingers with his mouth, kissing her until she couldn’t remember her question and wouldn’t have cared about his answer even if he’d given one.
He kissed her the way he’d kissed her under the stars that night. And this time it was even better, and she knew that at least some of the stars she’d seen that night had come from inside her. She didn’t know what she was doing, or what he was doing, or where this was going, or even what she wanted, but if someone had asked her if she’d like to feel this way forever, she would have said yes.
“I can’t believe you bought champagne.”
His hands were in her hair, his gaze fixed on hers. “I had to drive for an hour to buy it.”
“That’s why you drove to the village?”
“In the end I drove a bit farther than that. I decided that when you’re trying to make someone’s dream come true, you need something superior to the one they stock in the village.”
His hands moved down, his fingertips tracing the line of her shoulders and sliding under the thin straps that were keeping her decent. The straps surrendered under the determined pressure of his fingers and so did her nightdress, ivory silk and never before worn in anyone’s company other than her own. He didn’t rip it from her body, but she discovered that a slow undressing could be equally seductive.
“What are you doing?”
